


10 Symptoms and 1 Improbable Diagnosis

by StHoltzmann



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Choose your own ship, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Holtzmann Gone Wild, Lists, Open to Interpretation, Other, Romance, Silly, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StHoltzmann/pseuds/StHoltzmann
Summary: "Holtzmann's been acting extra weird, with weird sauce on top and another extra helping of weird on the side.”(Holtzmann-centered, with no particular ships.)





	

1\. Holtzmann runs down the stairs to the first floor of the firehouse. She taps a pencil against her teeth and asks, “What rhymes with particle?”

“Pretty much just ‘article,’ unless you’re OK with a near-rhyme,” Patty says immediately. “…Why?”

“Writing a love song,” says Holtzmann, halfway up the stairs.

Abby chokes so hard on a wonton that Erin has to pound her on the back.

 

2\. “Erin. ERIN!!! _Erinnnnn.”_ Holtzmann is rattling Erin’s chair arms to get her to look away from her work.

Erin sighs. “What is it, Holtzmann?”

“How many pieces are there supposed to be in the box of chocolates?”

“…what?”

“You know, twelve roses, so how many chocolates?”

“Oh. No, th—that’s not a thing,” Erin says, eyebrows furrowing.

“MORE IS BETTER,” yells Patty from somewhere in the book stacks.

Holtzmann gets that “I’ve got an idea” look in her eye and sprints back out of the room.

“Oh god,” says Abby.

 

3\. “I need a volunteer!” Holtzmann yells from the lab.

The other three exchange looks. They’ve all learned to be _very cautious_ when Holtzmann asks for volunteers.

“What for?” Patty shouts back.

“Kissing practice!”

Silence. _WTF_ may as well be written over the heads of everyone who is not Holtzmann.

“Holtz…” begins Abby, getting up from her new project and heading to the back of the lab. “That’s not something you…” and her voice fades out as she disappears behind the heavy equipment.

Three minutes later, Abby returns. There is a smear of tinted limp balm on her cheek that wasn’t there before.

“Um…what happened?” asks Erin.

“I _dodged_ ,” says Abby. “Then we had a little conversation about consent.”

 

4\. In the last few months, Patty’s been asked by Holtzmann to teach her how to play mah-jongg, do jump rope tricks, apply nail polish, and spot pickpockets on the subway. To the best of Patty's knowledge, Holtzmann hasn’t actually _done_ anything with any of her new skills, except for that one time she showed up with every nail on her left hand painted three different colors. So, all things considered, she’s not especially surprised when Holtzmann asks her—at 8 in the morning—how to slow dance.

“Holtzy, honey,” says Patty, after they take position and Holtzmann’s face immediately winds up buried in Patty’s bosom. “I believe Abby might be a better height for you, you see what I’m saying? I mean, I guess you can’t actually see _anything_ right now though…”

She doesn’t get an answer right away, and looks down at her colleague. Holtzmann’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. When Abby and Erin come in, they’ve both collapsed, still laughing, into a couple of chairs.

“How come I never know what’s going on here anymore?” complains Abby.

 

5\. Erin sets down the day’s mail on a table. “Abby…Abby…Patty…Holtz…me…Holtz…Holtz…Patty… Patty—that is a _lot_ of journals, Patty—“

“Reading ‘em online gives me eyestrain,” Patty informs Erin.

“Oh. Makes sense. And there’s some junk mail. No, wait, this is for Holtzmann. A jewelry supply catalog? Huh.”

“How do you know that’s not junk mail too?” asks Patty, gathering her stack of journals to her.

Abby grabs the catalog and flips through its brightly-colored pages. “Because it’s addressed to Harry Legg, one of the many charming _noms de plume_ she uses when she actually does sign up for a thing.”

“That girl.” Patty shakes her head. “What do you think she wants with it? I mean, I don’t know, but I’m guessing their bolts of wire and pink-handled pliers are not really up to lab quality.”

“You’d be right. So…I do _not_ know,” says Abby.

Holtzmann erupts into the room, notes flying and her hair going in twenty different directions. “Woo! It came!” She snatches the catalog right out of Abby’s hands and dances right back out, leaving the envelopes from the University of Tokyo, _Combustion and Flame_ , and the Max Planck Society on the table.

The other three are flipping through their own mail, still in a state of confusion, when Holtzmann sticks her head back in. “What goes better with moldovite: moonstone or labradorite?”

“For what kind of proj—“ Erin starts.

“ _Duh!_ I’ve got it. Ammonite!.” And Holtzmann is gone again.

Erin looks at Abby, and Abby just spreads her hands wordlessly.

 

6\. Holtzmann has the Ectomobile warmed up and waiting. When Abby climbs in next to her (nobody else will ride up front), she’s surprised to see Holtzmann juggling three plastic Christmas ornaments. “You juggle?” It’s not really surprising, but on the other hand, it’s not a skill Holtzmann has displayed before.

“Used to,” says Holtzmann, brow furrowed in concentration. “Gonna level it up again.” As Patty and Erin get in, Holtzmann catches all three ornaments and stuffs them in a pocket. “Hey you guys, which is cooler: Juggling, playing the harmonica, or magic tricks? Or pop and lock?”

“Cooler how?” asks Erin.

“You know, for impressing other people. Because I only know how to juggle. Buuut I could learn the others from Professor Youtube, if they’re better.”

Abby considers. “Well, personally—“

Patty coughs loudly. “Hello, ladies. I hate to interrupt this weird-ass conversation, but isn’t there, you know, a bust waiting for us? Or did I imagine that whole panicked phone call situation?”

“Oops!” Holtzmann floors it, and as the others are rocketed back in her seats, she glances over her shoulder and beams. “I’ll just learn all of ‘em. Maybe I can be the first person to do all four at the same time. Now let’s go bust something’s ass!”

“Oh my god. _Eyes on the road, Holtz!_ ” Erin manages between gritted teeth, weird-ass conversation already forgotten.

 

7\. There’s a rap on the bathroom door. “ _What?_ ” yells Abby. “I’ve been in here like three seconds! My butt’s not even on the seat yet!”

“What’s the best cost-for-value: helicopter banner, blimp display, or sky writing?” Holtzmann shouts through the door.

“… _WHAT?_ ”

“Never mind! Also, lunch is here.”

 

8\. “Lord have mercy!” Patty waves her hand in the air as she enters the lab area. “What is that smell? Let me tell you, I do _not_ miss the smells back at the MTA, and I don’t need anything to dig up those memories. Holtz!”

Holtzmann’s head pops over a tangled mass of equipment, prairie dog style. “I’m making beer!”

“You what now?”

Abby yells in. “Did she say she’s making beer?”

Before Patty can answer, Abby—and then Erin, and then Kevin—casually power-saunter into the room.

“Is that’s what in this big bottle?” asks Kevin, sidling over to a huge bottle of brown liquid. He holds up a mug, with a look of puppy-dog hopefulness. “Can I try it? I have a mug. It’s got coffee in it, but I can just dump it out somewhere.”

“Not on the plugs!” Holtzmann dashes out and throws herself dramatically between Kevin and the beer-brewing setup. She throws him an exaggerated glare. “And no! It’s not _for_ you. And it’s at a very delicate stage, so shoo!”

Kevin shrugs, and Erin grabs his mug before it can slosh on the power outlets. “OK. I’m gonna go back to my crossword.” He heads out.

“Ignoring the whole crossword thing, which I’m not even going to _try_ to make sense of, I think maybe Kevin actually has the right idea,” Patty says, slowly backing away.

“I believe you have a point,” says Erin, following.

“OK, Holtz, we’re shoo-ing. You have fun there,” Abby says. “Maybe get a fan in here though. And by the way, the next round is on you.”

 

9\. The four Ghostbusters are sitting on the roof, looking out over the nighttime skyline and enjoying a breather after the busting of a particularly obnoxious poltergeist.

Holtzmann leans back and stares up at the faint stars. “Y’know those scams where they say they’ll name a star after someone, if you pay ‘em?”

“Yeah…” says Abby, followed by a quick whisper to Erin: “Those are _scams?_ ”

Patty chuckles quietly. “You two are just too pure for this sinful world. And yeah, Holtzy, we know.”

There’s a thoughtful silence from Holtzmann’s direction. “Well, the actual stars are too far away, but what if I sent—I _mean_ , if somebody could send a self-piloted, robotic lander to a comet, and write somebody’s name on it?”

Three sets of brows crease. Erin takes a sip of her white wine. “Um, why?”

“…Just thinkin’.”

 

10\. “What is _up_ with Holtzy lately?” demands Patty, slamming a stack of books down on the conference table. Abby and Erin wince—if Patty is even close to abusing books, she is in quite a mood. “She’s been acting extra weird, with weird sauce on top and another extra helping of weird on the side.”

“Now what?” asks Abby.

“I tried to sit down in my chair only to find _this,_ with a note from Holtzmann. You know what these books are? Go on, take a guess.”

“Um, history books?” asks Erin, forehead creased.

“NO.”

“C’mon, what the heck are they?” Abby is squinting at the tall stack through her glasses.

“They are _BOOKS. OF. LOVE. POEMS._ ” Patty shakes her head. “Vintage, collectible poetry books. Who knows where she got ‘em…but when I almost sat on them, this one fell off and got its corners dented. A 1976 Adrienne Rich first edition. Dammit. Anyway, the post-it on top said _Could you tell me which ones are good?_ I mean, really. From Holtzy! That’s just wrong.”

Erin reaches out to take one of the books and Patty smacks her hand away. “Sorry,” says Erin. “What do you think she meant by that?”

There’s a long, pondering silence.

“Do you…” begins Patty slowly. “Do you think Holtzy…has a girlfriend?”

Abby laughs. “That’s easily the wildest, most out-there idea I’ve ever heard in this building, and that includes the time Ke—”

The front door slams. “Hey you guys!” Holtzmann hollers. “Sorry I’m tardy, but I got somebody you need to meet!”

**Author's Note:**

> More silliness. I've got a couple longer, more complex things I'm working on, but they require a lot more time and emotional energy...Hope it was fun though! I'd love to hear what you think.
> 
> (P. S. I couldn't find a graceful way to leave the ending more open to interpretation. But feel free to switch out the last line with "Sorry I'm tardy, but I've got a special delivery for [your favorite ship's other half]!")


End file.
